Master of Magic
by Rennwood Phoenix
Summary: Moments have the power to influence an entire life. They can change the sea of time, and they have the tendency to stay prominently in one's memory. They can be good, helpful, and we may love remembering them. But others can be harsh, unforgiving, and filled with pain. His life was filled with both. A series of moments in the life of Loki, the Master of Magic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well hey there! I actually found this from maybe two years ago. Finally decided to post it, because I'm too picky about my own writing, you feel?**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!**

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 _Boys grow to men. Lessons are taught. And a mother's heart is near to breaking._

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"Mother!"

The cry split the relaxing silence of the palace. Frigga sighed, laying down her book and welcoming the little ball of energy that was her son and was speeding straight toward her, almost knocking her over. The little boy buried his face into her chest, sobbing pitifully. Frigga rubbed his back soothingly. "What's the matter, Thor?"

Thor hiccuped, staring up at her with miserable blue eyes. "M-Mother, Loki t-took my h-hammer!"

Frigga glanced over her son's head to see a taller, thinner, dark-haired boy tread quietly into the room. He caught her eye sheepishly, saying, "Hello, Mother," with a tentative smile. He clutched something, which looked like a stick, behind his back.

Frigga mentally went through the ways she could discipline her slightly younger son. Not coming to a quick agreement with herself, she beckoned him over, to which he obliged.

Thor, looking up from his mother's embrace, glared at his brother murderously. Frigga pulled him away to arm's length and studied her sons' faces carefully.

Thor's eyes showed anger at his brother, yet looked at her pleadingly, begging for her to do something about his beloved hammer, which was still in the other boy's possession. She noticed the tear stains he was trying so hard to wipe away and the bedraggled hair, a sign of a previous fight.

Loki, on the other hand, stood impassively, eyebrows slightly raised and mouth tilted a bit upwards, showing his mischievous nature. His hands were clasped at his back, still grasping the hammer. His feet shifted just slightly, telltale signs of nervousness.

She sighed. "Oh, children, what shall I do with you? I cannot seem to have a quiet moment to study my books. Please, tell me why that is."

Thor stared at his feet and pointed to his brother. "Mother, he took my hammer away and he will not give it back." His voice was quiet, quite unlike him.

Frigga turned to Loki. "Is this true, son?"

Her younger boy bit his lip. "Yes, Mother," he murmured.

She gazed sadly at them. "Must you always come to me? Why can you not be big boys and solve your problems?"

Her sons glanced at each other, apparently calculating ways to get the other in trouble without revealing their own wrongdoings. Loki was the first to look up. His jaw was set determinedly and there was a look of subtle resignation in his eyes. "Mother. . . ." He held up the small wooden hammer he had been clutching. It was a crude replica of Mjolnir, the hammer Thor was said to possess one day, though none knew for certain. The paint around the handle was chipping and the wooden head cracked from many play-battles between the young brothers.

Loki continued: "Thor was not fair in his. . . playing." His voice dropped to a murmur: "He took my sword, Mother."

 _Ah. Both have wronged each other. . . ._

Frigga tood the hammer from Loki's grasp gently. "Sons, look at me, please." They obliged. "I believe you need to think this situation over carefully. So Loki, stay here, and Thor, please go sit on your bed until I tell you to come back."

The elder brother hung his head, balled his fists, and marched out of the room, pounding his feet on the hard stone floor. Frigga sighed and gestured for Loki to sit on the chair next to her. She turned to him and studied him carefully. His eyes were fixed on the blazing fire on the hearth. The light cast a warm golden glow onto his pale face, giving him an almost ethereal look. His eyebrows wrinkled slightly and his lips were pressed together in thought. His slender hands gripped the armrests of the chair tightly, feet dangling and swinging above the floor.

"Still your feet, darling," Frigga reprimanded gently. His legs halted their journeys back and forth abruptly and her young son crossed his ankles.

The question he then asked surprised the queen: "Mother, why is it wrong to take other's things?"

Frigga sighed and ran her hand over the worn cover of her book. "Loki. . . think about this: Say there is a man who owns a wonderful horse. Say that horse is the pride of the land and many people wish to possess him. But then one day another man comes and takes the horse out of his owner's stables and takes him to his own home. How do you think the first man would feel?"

The boy was quiet for a time. Then, "I suppose he would feel sad. But. . . ." He wrinkled his eyebrows more. "But what if the second man was poor and needed a horse and could not buy one of his own?"

Her eyebrows lifted. She was not expecting that response, even from her intelligent son who thought through every aspect of every situation before deciding on an answer or path to take. "Well, I suppose in that case the second man could have talked to the first in a civilized way instead of simply taking the horse for himself."

"I suppose. . . ." Loki mused. "So is it wrong to take from someone because it makes them feel bad?"

"No. But that is one part of it. Stealing is wrong because. . . well, some things do not belong to some people. And when you take something that does not belong to you it is simply wrong. Never is it alright to take something that is not your own."

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"He took something that was _not his own,_ Mother!" Loki's voice echoed through the dimly lit chamber. He stood, facing the fireplace, fists clenched angrily, jaw moving as if he were chewing something. His shoulders were held up stiffly, emerald cape arching over them and sweeping the ground just barely. His eyes blazed in rhythm with the fire, reflecting the golden flames perfectly. "He took someone's child, then put that child through years and years of misery and rejection. Mother, my true father threw me out into the cold _because I was small._ Because I was a _runt!_ " He whirled around, gazing wildly into his mother's eyes with his intense green stare. Frigga placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, which he shrugged off. He stalked around the room, turning completely every now and then.

"Loki, please. Think about this-"

"No!" her son bellowed. "Odin may have raised me, but he was never my father. He never loved me! Not even my real father loved me! To Odin I was only an instrument for uniting two kingdoms, and how did _that_ turn out?!" Loki's lips turned up in a sneer, and he continued his pacing, cape billowing around behind him. "All he managed to do with me was to make my life miserable. Then after-"

"Loki! Listen to me!" Frigga cut in sternly. Her son halted his steps and faced her. His face was such a horrible mixture of pain, anger, and sorrow, she almost didn't have the heart to scold him. But she steeled herself and continued: "Going on about this will not solve anything, no matter how much you want it to. The only thing you can do is to accept the truth."

"But it's-" Loki protested.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "It is hard! It might even be impossible. But, well, sometimes you have to do the impossible." Her face softened and she placed a hand on Loki's cheek. "Oh, dear one. . . ."

His eyes closed, he shuddered, and after a while a single sparkling tear escaped from under his long, dark lashes. His eyebrows drew together, creating long lines of worry on his forehead. Frigga wiped the tear away gently with her thumb, then rested her head on his broad shoulder and stroked his hair.

"Mother," he whispered.

"Shh, shh," she murmured soothingly. "It's all right, darling. It's all right. . . ."

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, tears staining her gown. After a moment, her son's sturdy frame began to shake as he wept.

She had no words.

She did not know how to reassure him; this was beyond her.

But it was comforting that she could hold her son safe in her arms once more. . . .

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	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! I wasn't sure if/when/how I would continue this little series of snapshots, but I had a lot of Loki feels, ya know?**

 **So here's a little lighthearted, funny piece :)**

 _ **By the**_ ** _way_ , in this one, I'm imagining Thor and Loki about the human (mortal) equivalent of late teenagers, like sixteen or seventeen. **

**Anyway, enjoy :)**

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 _A little mishap causes confused feelings, embarrassment, and a little bit of brotherly banter, and a lot of brotherly love._

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Loki's eyes snapped open. A deep, throbbing ache pushed against his chest.

He raised an absent hand to massage his temple. The room around him was dark, but he could make out the edge of the curtains, the posts of his bed, and the vague flickering under the door.

His chest heaved in a sigh, and he swung his legs to the floor. A tiny silver light blinked above his palm, and he crept to the door, heaving it open, and padded down the echoing golden hall.

Absently, Loki counted torches in the hall, willing away the ache in his heart, but it would not go.

One foot at a time, his breaths sounding like roars in his skull, he made his way toward the common area.

A dull firelight flickered, in a pit in the center of the room. Loki let out a long breath, the golden light soothing his aches.

A figure on one of the couches whirled around, eyes wide. He relaxed after catching Loki's eye.

"Brother," Thor whispered, rubbing his forehead. "It is not wise to be in my company."

Loki settled his slight frame carefully into the corner of the couch. "Who said I was wise?"

Thor was silent.

"You never went to sleep," Loki admonished.

Thor's eyebrows drew together. "How could I? I disgraced Father, embarrassed Mother, and now everyone in the kingdom will avoid our coming-of-age ceremony like the plague."

"Not true." Loki shook his head. "I spoke with Mother. She agrees with me: you are over thinking this. You made a mistake, but no one thinks of you the worse for it."

Thor sighed. "Yes, but you heard what Father said."

Loki raised one eyebrow. "Everyone in the nine realms knows that Father is a bit . . . er . . . reactive."

"He said I disgraced the line of Borr and that he considered handing the throne to you."

" _Me?_ " Loki had to laugh. "Think, brother. He has been planning the decorations for your coronation since your first hour of life. He would rather hand the throne to _Volstagg_ than to me."

Suddenly Thor smirked. "Volstagg would not be a bad choice-"

Loki kicked him.

The prince's mood instantly brightened. "At least," Thor continued, "he would be sure we never ran out of cheese in the kingdom, and see that-"

"Alright, alright," Loki conceded.

But Thor was not finished. He let loose such a laugh, Loki thought his brother's chest might explode. "Can you imagine? Feasts every night, half of Asgard turned into _farmers_ . . . So much wine . . ." Thor threw a leg onto the couch, bending it and leaning over sideways, still chuckling.

"Yes, yes, Volstagg would be a better king than I would, I understand." Loki quirked an eyebrow.

Thor choked on his laughter. "No, no, Loki, you-" he gasped, "you misunderstand. It was only a jest." He finally breathed. _In, out . . ._

Loki waited.

Thor only grinned at him.

"Well, since I've provided so much entertainment, I believe I shall retire again," Loki sighed. But he had no desire to sleep. Something sharp and cold nagged at his mind, something he hadn't addressed since yesterday. Thor hadn't been the only one to embarrass himself.

Father had held a feast yesterday, to celebrate Mother's birthday. It was a three-day-long, lavish affair. Everyone had imbibed a bit too much liquor, and the two princes of Asgard were among them. By the third day, it had been difficult to tell people apart.

By Father's orders, the boys were not to drink so much that they could not keep their dignity in the court. But of course, they quickly forgot their oaths, and with the flowing ale, they lost their senses.

One can only imagine what might happen when two brothers who have not yet come of age exceed their permitted alcohol limit.

First, the girls. Loki cringed at the memory.

He had never admitted this to anyone, but he carried a special fondness for Lady Sif. Her stark black hair was so different than any other Asgardian, and her manners so quick and determined, he was entranced. With liquor in his veins, he quickly lost any sense of social boundaries. He may or may not have admitted his deepest feelings to her, after which she openly rejected him in front of the entire Asgardian court.

Then, Loki, the quick-silver prince of Asgard, son of Odin All-Father, descendant of the great King Borr, and top student in all the schools of magic, healing, and astronomy . . . broke down on the king's dais, clutching a keg of ale, bawling like a child.

But Thor had made such a mess of himself, Loki wondered if his dignity should ever recover.

If Loki thought his drinking had exceeded limit, Thor's had done so tenfold.

At this memory, Loki almost smiled. Thor had violently flirted with every girl he saw, including his own aunt. After his supply of women was exhausted, the prince proceeded to bellow insults at his best friends, Loki included, then jumped onto the tables and ran up and down, stepping in every plate, platter, jug, barrel, and knocked over every candle in his path. After that, despite the king and queen's efforts to subdue him, Thor had begun to sing. He sang every dirty drinking song he knew, with words that would make a sailor blush.

Eventually, Odin and Frigga ordered their sons to their chambers. Guards dragged the princes away, both protesting, albeit weakly.

And all this on the queen's birthday celebration.

Both had received quite the earful from Father later.

"Come now, Loki." Thor sobered. "Don't be unhappy. I meant no harm."

"No, of course you didn't."

"You would make a wonderful king!"

"Mm."

"Loki, I mean it. Stop this." Thor moved to the couch his brother occupied. "You're being ridiculous. Are you really upset about my joke?"

Finally Loki gave in, unable to resist those bright, innocent blue eyes. "No, it's alright, that's not it."

"You're upset," Thor deduced, one eyebrow raised, "about Lady Sif's rejection."

He took Loki's silence as confirmation.

"You are!" he crowed.

"I had planned," Loki admitted, "on _not_ admitting my, ah, feelings like _that._ "

"Oh, brother, if I had known before, I could have helped you!"

"With what? Ruining my reputation?"

Thor smirked. "If that is what you needed, then yes."

"Yes, well, I doubt I shall be speaking with her anymore."

"Nonsense." Thor slapped his brother's shoulder. "She found it hilarious."

"Of course she did."

"Absolutely."

"No doubt."

"Now you've got it!"

Loki had to grin.

Thor shoved his shoulder again. "Come, there we are. Cheer up!"

Loki shoved back. "Not on your life. I will feel whatever I like."

"Oh no you won't, you'll be happy."

"Never." The grin grew wider.

Thor grabbed his brother's head in the crook of his elbow, lunging forward. Loki brought a fist up, planting it in Thor's exposed armpit. They rolled off the couch, laughing and shouting, punching, kicking, and scrambling desperately to overpower the other.

The door flung open, startling the boys on the floor. They froze, Loki's foot in Thor's knee, their arms around each other's throats, and their fists raised to deliver blows.

The figure stopped at the threshold, then sighed.

"Boys." Frigga gazed with weary eyes. "There you are."

The princes fumbled awkwardly, standing and tugging at their rumpled tunics.

"Hello, Mother," Loki murmured.

"I've worried about you all night," the queen sighed again, rushing forward and slinging an arm around each of her sons. "Are you both doing better?"

"Mmh," Thor answered.

"Good." Pulling away, Mother kissed Loki's forehead and Thor's cheek. "Then I think it's time you both had some rest. And," she took their hands in each of hers, "I am so proud of you both . . . You have become wonderful, thoughtful, strong young men. I could not be prouder."

All they could do was nod, squeeze her hands, and whisper "thank you."

But on the way out the door, Loki could not help himself. He took a step to the side, then leaned his shoulder down and _rammed_ Thor in the chest. Thor flew backwards into the wall with a _smack,_ barely catching himself from sliding to the floor.

Loki grinned, showing off all his teeth. "Beat you," he snickered, then whirled and ran down the hall, his brother's shouts, curses, and thudding footsteps chasing him.

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 **Thanks for reading! Until next time :)**


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